175 thoughts on “Friday Challenge: Write A Fish Story”

As I preach the gospel to every creature, I endeavor to preach to every creature. Young and Old, Fowl or Ferret. Each creature I meet on the street, sees my “Books of the Bible” tie and my large print KJV and immediately wishes to pray the sinners prayer and accept Christ on the spot! I won 99 souls to Christ just today!

As for MY ministry, we broke a new record and have 101 souls attending every week (The spider on the wall, the pregnant lady and the four people that were supposed to show up, all count, right?).

I’m tired just thinking about it. I think I’ll go home and demand that my wife make her Sunday School class half as good as mine…TBC

Whoa, slow down, brother! I don’t think you thought that one through well enough. What if this dear woman was having twins? Or triplets? Or even–God bless her–quadruplets? You should always account for these possibilities in your “SAVED” count.

Once when I was single- handedly grabbing an entire crowd of Jehovah’s Witnesses by the nape of the neck and forcing them to listen to me recite the Romans Road, a fierce wind came barreling down the street and threatened to whip those tracts right out of my pretty little hands. Because I was modestly dressed in thick woolen leg earners under my calf- length denim skirt, I had no fears of a Marilyn Monroe slut-over-the-street-vent moment, though those lustful JoHo’s were probably hopeful. Anyway, I merely called on the power to which every monumental soul winner has access, and raising both hands to the sky, I commanded the wind to cease. Of course it did, and I forced those heathen to their knees and made each one repeat that precious rote prayer after me. Seven hundred thirty two lost sheep came into the fold on that windy street corner that day, in that tiny New Hampshire village. I was truly a woman. A woman used of Gid. (the last two sentences must be read in your best Marlene Evans voice.)

I forgot to add that immediately after I sent them on their way, figuring my work there was finished, I went home and wrote adoringly about my pastor on the church web site, then got on my knees and thanked heavens for hours on end that I am able to demonstrate the power of a good woman’s impact on the world around her. Then I made phone calls, to the backslidden who skipped out in the week- long reival, with their lame excuses about family time.

In the spring of 1991, my holiness pentecostal youth group went to a youth rally. One of the lessons they gave us took the story of Pharaoh and the plagues and turned it into a story about choosing Jesus. Hold that thought.

Every Easter vacation my family (unbelievers) would go camping in Florida. This year I took my best friend who also went to the youth rally with me. While hanging around the campground looking for something to do, we happened upon a rec-room that was unlocked. We hung out in there to read. Eventually some boys found us and we goofed around and played games and stuff. One evening, the power went out and things got serious. We sat around and talked. I don’t remember how the conversation got started, but I remember my friend saying “There was once this Pharaoh, and pharaoh was a butthole….” and we took turns telling the story, adding our own flavor. We took the same angle as the youth minister did at the rally – that when totally overrun with frogs, instead of letting the people go right away and receiving relief, Pharaoh says “Tomorrow”. And then we told this room full of about 8 teenage boys that they should ask Jesus into their hearts and not wait until tomorrow. They agreed and they prayed with us.

What a bunch of gospel-less nonsense! But hey, we wont 8 souls, yeah? 🙄

Because heathens, liberals and other unsavory folks who are not saved watch EVERYTHING I do (that’s what my pastor tells and he has a direct line to God so who am I to question his authority, amen?) I make sure that my life is a reflection of my testimony and holiness.

I have personally “won” countless souls simply by my appearance and actions. I have brought people to the saving knowledge of Jesus Christ just by having them see me go to church 5 times a week, by them seeing me leave a family party because someone brought the “booze” out and by watching me mow my lawn in a tie and wing tips. But most importantly they are convicted just by watching me carry my KJV Bible everywhere I go.

My favorite memories are of corner unsuspecting folks and convincing them that even though they don’t know me, I have all the answers to any question they have.

I take to heart the things my pastor tells me, like the fact that everyone else wants what I have. It is my holiness that rubs off on those wicked Democrats and Catholics.

I could say more but I must go. Someone out there needs to see me avoiding the beer aisle in the grocery store in order to be convicted of their sin and their need for a personal savior.

@Big Gary, Praise the Lord! You’ve answered your call to go to the alcohol stores with the Gospel. I go to my local Walgreens and stand next to the condoms while I pass out tracts that have Psalm 127:5 emblazoned across the front. Haymen!!!

Sorry, Scorpio, but you have bought into the devil’s lie about lifestyle evangelism, just like those leftwing Neo-evangelicals. The only soul winning that counts is the face- to- face in-their-faces Romans Road conversation that starts, “if you died today…”. Because scaring them to Gid is the only correct way. It is the Jack Hyles way. THAT ends any argument right there.

My pastor said that anyone who believes in lifestyle evangelism is trying to make themselves better than Jesus, because he was perfect and even he had to tell people about God. And he’s the Managawd, so if he said it, it must be true!

Many years ago, when the Good Lord called me to repent from my liberal denominational ties, I was personally convicted that my role as a woman was one of submission. Since then, I have faithfully and tirelessly served my husband (who works at the church college six days a week) while attending church four times a week and running the church’s creche.

When I and my fifteen homeschooled children go to the shops, even in the middle of the hottest Australian Summer, I make sure to be modestly dressed with a long skirt and long sleeves, which also cleverly cover up any bruises from my husband’s loving correction, and my children are so well behaved all silent and in a line that other parents can see the blessing that the Good Lord has had on our lives, and turn and repent so that their home too can be blessed.

Folks, tonight I want to tell you of what will happen, the judgment of the Lord that awaits, if you do not repent during the forty-four verses to follow of “Just As I Am”.

I knew a young sister once, came every night to revival meetings, and the Lord was convicting her heart. You could tell she needed saving. . wore them ungodly pants, had her hair cut like a man’s, too much makeup and jewelry, not married and under a man’s leadership, and carrying a New Living Perversion.

So, the last night of the meetings, I could tell, just tell, that as we finished up the hour-long invitation that she was wanting to come forward, the way she kept squirming around in her pew, like she was tired of standing or had to use the bathroom or something. But I could tell it was the Spirit moving in her heart.

But alas, she did not go forward that night. And an hour later, I got a call from her heartbroken mother. Her car had hit a train on the way home from the revival meeting, and she faced God’s wrath.

Folks, if she wasn’t a Christian, she is now burning in the fires of hell. If she was a backslidden Christian, imagine how she will feel as she stands before God and he flashes every sin she ever committed as a Christian right before her eyes. How she will WISH, WISH, that she had come forward and repented of her wicked ways.

I was once eating lunch at a local coney when a traveling ladies ensemble from a Fundy U (I don’t want to say the name, but it rhymes whith Shmob Shones)all bowed their heads and loudly SANG the required blessing over their food. All 15 of them. Everyone in the place looked over at them, and 18 souls came to the saving knowledge of Christ simply by their testimony and willingness to not be ashamed of the gospel.

Ok, I made up the part about the 18 souls, but sadly, the first part was entirely true.

I was forced to do this once years ago with a group from my home church when we sat down to dinner at a HoJo’s (I’m dating myself). Our pastor’s wife decided it would “be a testimony” if, prior to dining, we would all sing “Thank You, Lord, for Saving My Soul.”

Back in ’36 my wife Betsy and I were traveling the back roads of east Texas on the way to our next meeting at Possum Creek Baptist Church in a little town just south of Nacogdoches. We pulled in to a filling station to top off the old Buick when Betsy espied a boy about ten with coveralls and no shoes come out of the general store across the street with an orange Nehi in one hand leading an old coon dog on a leash with the other.

She said, “Honey, I feel we need to talk with that young boy.” We went across the dirt road and walked up the crickity wooden steps of that old store to where the young boy had taken a seat on an overturned crate of John Deere tractor parts. I sat down next to him and before I could say anything he said, “Sir, are you a Man of God?” I told him that I was, and that my name was the Reverend Evangelist Doctor Hammond. He said, “Dr. Hammond, I need to be saved, and I believe you’re the only one who can help me.”

So Betsy and I and this young boy knelt down right there in front of that general store. When I started to lead him in the sinner’s prayer I felt a cold, moist something on my cheek. It felt like a piece of liver, though I must confess I have never had a piece of liver on my cheek! I opened my eyes and found it was this coon dog. Being afraid he would interrupt the soul-winning experience and be used of Satan to keep this young boy from Christ, I grabbed the dog around the neck, stuck his nose under an old cotton feed sack, and held him firmly. (All of this time the boy was praying and being saved.) The dog squirmed for a while. I squeezed his neck harder. Then he became motionless. I thought to myself, “Brother, I guess I have won a soul and killed a dog!” I was afraid I had choked him to death. What a joy it was when all of us got off our knees to know that not only had the boy been saved but the dog was still alive. I guess he had decided he enjoyed kneeling with us; in fact, after we got up, he remained in the kneeling position with his nose between his paws.

When we stood up, I asked the boy his name. That day I led a young Jack Hyles to the Lord.

As a mother of seven children and under the authority of my husband and the managawd, my main ministry is in my home, raising my children by the Book and the stick. I make all of our bread and plenty of casseroles (being sure to let none of that processed junk into our home) and sew all of mine and the girls’ modest dresses & jumpers. I’ve also taught the girls to sew and ensure that they only play house and other gender-appropriate games between their chores. The boys can run around outside and do whatever they want, but they are trained to be completely respectful to me and their father and to not question anything we teach them. Our home is always spotless (since cleanliness is next to godliness) and we often take meals to the elderly in our church. On Sundays and Wednesdays, we go to church, where the children all sit quietly in a row, never disrupting the service. While we’re gone, we’re sure to leave the lights out at home so the neighbors know we’re at church. In our home and lives, we avoid all appearance of evil. Once somebody gave us a box of hand-me-down clothes in a beer box. We burned the box so that the neighbors wouldn’t see it sitting out by the trash.

Oh, you say this was supposed to be an evangelistic tale? Why my dear sweetie, don’t you know how many lost sinners have come to repentence when they see us at Walmart in our awkwardly modest and matching clothing and the girls’ long hair? Why I’m sure that even the apostle Paul himself didn’t have as much influence over degenerate souls as my family has been. The coffers of heaven will be full thanks to the good testimony that my family is to everyone who sees them.

If you only have seven children, you are probably not submitting to the will of your husband enough. I am more submissive, having made 21 children so far, all of whom are multiplying my soul-winning numbers. We go to local grocery stores and shopping malls and each of us passes out tracts and then wallops the sinners (who dare to walk away)with our KJV Bibles until they kneel and pray the sinner’s prayer for fear of another Bible thumping. Under my home-schooling, the children get academic credit for souls won which creates even more soul-winning zeal amongst them. Once we arrange the marriages of our oldest children, they can begin to further multiply our numbers. My soul-winning numbers will explode exponentially as we bring our baby-making powers to bear on the unsuspecting citizens of our area.

When I was receiving my training under the tutelage of Dr. J.R. Keller I would spend hours with him kneeling behind his desk praying for the fear of God to strike like a lightning bolt. I remember one afternoon we prayed from 6 in the morning to 1 in the afternoon. The phone would be ringing on his desk, we didn’t even think of breakfast or lunch. We got off our knees and we both immediately thought about those lost souls who would be at the rock show that night. We went through the church collecting every tract we could and went out to the rock show. Dr. Keller stayed at the gate while I walked down the line of these people who were starving. You could see the sin in their eyes. I gave them each a tract. One man ripped it up, spit on it, and threw it back to me. I knelt right there and prayed that God would strike the fear into his heart. I shouted to heaven on behalf of this man. He began to weep. He fell to his knees and confessed to me that he was at the rock show with a woman who wasn’t his wife. She kneeled and confessed that she too was married. We prayed and they asked the Lord to save them. A group of people came around us; they were crying too. Dr. Keller came down to us and heard from these lost, starving people. Soon our crowd was so large we went into the stadium and filled the seats with crying people. I took to the stage, cast down the instruments of sin and despair and preached the Word of God. The leader of the band was a hard man – big as a bear with tattoos all over him – he was weeping like a baby. Dr. Keller and I took turns preaching and held revival services that whole week and led thousands to Jesus. Thousands to Jesus! Can I get an amen! The power of your knees – staying on your knees can reach into the thousands! Can I get an amen!

My son and his youth group went to some Christian Music thing (I think it was called Spirit West Coast, but possibly something else) and there were fundies accosting all of the young people attending, telling them they would go to hell and stuff. He was pretty disturbed by it. Evidently he didn’t know to ignore and keep walking. He engaged in a conversation with one of them. He said it was the most hateful person he ever met.

Lord worked a mighty thing in my preaching, as I led over sixty hundred and seven to the Lord at Big Boulevard Baptist Church. Sped home in the pouring rain, thinking of the showers of blessings the Lord must have provided. It was late that night, and I had to call upon the angel of protection for my dear soul.

To my surprise, I saw a poor woman, bun in the oven, crying, stranded in the rain. Her car had lost a tire. She looked flustered, and I knew she needed help.

“God,” I prayed, “let me claim one more soul tonight.”

Stopped up behind her and hopped out of my car. She exclaimed “Oh, thank God!”

I said, “Thank God indeed, ma’am, but do you know Jesus as your personal Savior? Without Him, there won’t be a God to thank, amen?”

She asked, “Sir, I don’t know this Jesus, but can you spare a—”

“Gracious no, only God can spare!” In the pouring rain, I kept witnessing, and she started nodding to everything I said. Step my step I drove her down that good old Romans Road, and boy, was she eager to admit her faults and get saved, like she was desperate for that Truth!

After the last Amen, I made it back to my car, ready to get home for supper.

I was downtown on the street corner holding signs for the rush-hour traffic when across the street there were some people handing out sandwiches to the jobless bums that hang out on the streets. (sometimes the police aren’t effective enough in getting them off the streets, and sometimes people from the community go and feed them ~ which only encourages them to stay in that situation.) So while I am holding my signs and shouting at traffic, one of these community gospel workers comes over and offers me a sandwich. I immediately knew that this woman needed to be saved because of her attire. She was wearing jeans and a tee shirt so it was obvious to me that whatever gospel she was teaching was not the right gospel. As I began to journey down the Romans Road with her, her companion who happened to be a male, and I didn’t see any wedding rings on either of their fingers, which led me to believe they were probably living in sin when they weren’t out giving sandwiches to the riff raff, approached and tried to interrupt. I was really wishing Jack Hyles were here to smother him or play that fancy pen game with him to distract him while I closed the deal on his harlot of a partner. Well, without the help of either Jack Hyles OR the Lord, I was successful in getting her to pray the prayer with me (well, she prayed her own prayer and it sounded like she was praying for ME, but I am going to count it because she did pray and while SHE prayed *I* superimposed words for her over her prayer so I think it jimmied the system and God will let her in.) She was a tough one because she already thought she WAS saved. But of course since she wasn’t dressed like a Christian, and she was out in the downtown area with a man who wasn’t her husband, and because I had never seen her before in MY church, I am pretty sure she wasn’t. All I can say is good thing I was there.

I read this aloud to my coworker, and we are hysterical. The smothering and fancy pen trick I had to explain to her, so it just kept getting funnier and funnier, and we are nearly dying here. Well done, Sims, well done indeed. 😉 😆

While I was flying out to visit a very good friend on the other coast, I happened to be seated next to a woman who was wearing sunglasses and seemed to be trying to hide her face from the public. I was pretty sure she was someone famous, but since I don’t own a TV or a computer I couldn’t be absolutely positive. I asked her if she was famous and she said no and went back to reading her magazine. I then figured that maybe she really WAS famous but just didn’t want to say so, so I asked again.
She was very polite and pleasant but again denied being famous. Since I thought there was an off chance she was someone important I decided to give her a tract. She was very agreeable and accepted it and went back to her magazine. Somehow, I felt the spirit urging me to continue conversing with this woman in spite of getting very little encouragement from her along these lines. She put on headphones, but I used sign language. I don’t actually know sign language so I pantomimed the story of salvation complete with Jesus dying on the cross (which happened to be right as the male stewardess was coming up the aisle with the drink cart…) He wasn’t happy about being hit in the stomach with my outstretched arm, but I gave him a tract about the evils of homosexuality so that turned out to be a real blessing for him.) Then the woman I was seated next to pretended to sleep. I hadn’t yet gotten her to pray the prayer and here I was in a quandry. Do I wake her up and make her say the prayer or do I let her sleep and risk her eternal damnation? Well, I just fidgited and coughed and tapped until she finally took off her headphones and asked if I was ok. Long story short, the entire airplane got saved that day as a result of my persistance. And when they took me off the plane in handcuffs (being persecuted for my faith in AMERICA of all places) I saw on a magazine cover the face of the woman I had led to Jesus. Her name was Snookie and she was on a tv show about life in New Jersey.

Our little white frame church was plagued with bats in the belfry. Oh, laugh if you want, sinner, but this was a horrible thing. The upper reaches of our house of gid was filling up with bat guano. It was a-threatening to bring down the structure. Our pastor, in a moment of weakness that is truly unlike him, brought together the building committee, which I’m on of course, to discuss rebuilding the roof and steeple of the church. Why, that building is Historic, and I just knew there had to be another way. Well, I got my four sons and five shovels and we went to work. We started sacking up and hauling out all that mess by hand, and brothers, it was hot, hard work.

How did this win souls, you ask? My oldest son thought we might be able to do something with that mess once it was composted. What we found was that it was full of nitrogen and good for gardens. From that day the members of the church went door to door selling Holy Crap.

I did a little stealing there. When I was a teenager, riding in the car with my mom, I heard the story on the radio about some really big historic church in Philly/Boston/Charleston that really had a bat infestation and the weight of the guano was endangering the church. The church bagged and sold the guano as fertilizer. I said, from the passenger seat, “Holy S__t!!” and although my mom was a little upset at my language, she was laughing too hard to do much about it.

One day a member of my grand and glorious church, First Baptist Church of Hammond, contacted me to see if I would go with him to convert his neighbor family. The man’s name was Bear, because he was as big as a bear and prior to his accepting Jesus as his personal Saviour, he liked to kill anything that moved and make scratch mark tallies on his gunstock to count his kills. That has nothing to do with his name, but I needed some filler in this illustration because otherwise I have to open the Bible and speak about that and we all know that never works. I personally had won the soul of Bear after his wife had introduced us after her conversion. Now there’s a story for you; the conversion of Bear’s wife! See, one day she was “cleaning” my house and I just so happened to catch her while she was cleaning the bathtub. So I climbed in the bathtub with her so as to look as if I was cleaning too. Which turned out to be a fortunate event, because when Mrs. Hyles walked in on us we both bowed our heads and I began to pray and she began to repeat the sinner’s prayer after me. After she had prayed, and with tears in her eyes, she looked at Mrs. Hyles and said, “What’s in the past has been forgiven, amen?” Of course Mrs. Hyles had to agree and the three of us rejoiced in her conversion together. Shortly after the bathtub incident she introduced me to her husband and I led him to Jesus as well, making sure not to mention to him anything about the bathtub.

Anyway, Bear asked me to come convert the Catholic family that lived across the street from him and so I went. We knocked on the door and when they opened it they knew immediately who I was. Amazing! My fame had gone before me. Bear asked if we could step inside and speak with them and they gladly dropped everything they had scheduled for the day, changed in to dresses and suits, made some cookies and lemonade, and welcomed us into their living room. When we sat down I began to pressure them right away about whether they had ever asked Jesus into their hearts. But I didn’t get 2 minutes into my speech before I ran into not one, not two, but three problems. First off Bear kept interrupting me and try to steal these souls for himself rather than letting me get the credit. Who did he think he was? I’m the great Jack Hyles and he’s just a new convert! Nobody steals the right to count souls from me! Not ever! So that was problem number one. Then it turns out that the husband of the house was deaf and no one in the household could communicate with him, not even his wife. It seemed that his deafness was caused by his Catholicism. The last issue was their little dog named Tommy. Sweetest dog you’ve ever seen, but that dog was deaf, dumb, and blind. (Incidentally, when I met Roger Daltry in an elevator I told him about this dog and he was inspired to write a song or something about the dog, though Roger would not give his heart back to Jesus because he wanted his freedom.) Anyway, the dog kept thrashing around and every time I talked the dog’s movements kept distracting them from what I was saying.

So here I was in a real quandary, Bear trying to steal my thunder, the dog distracting them, and this family ripe for the picking. I did the only thing I could. I shoved Bear’s face into the couch cushions and sat on him so he’d quit interrupting me. Then I mesmerized the family by getting them to stare at the ballpoint pen trick in my left hand while I used my right hand to convert the dog, Tommy. With Tommy now giving his heart to Jesus, he could help me convert the husband. Wouldn’t you know it! That little dog bowed it’s head and seemed to be praying when I prayed the sinner’s prayer with it. Then Tommy stood up and went right before the husband, sat down on his back legs and used his paws to point to heaven and then folded them together like he was praying while his tail wrapped around and pointed to his heart! The whole family began to cry and they got down on their knees and I had them repeat a vain repetition and they were converted. Miraculously, the husband regained his hearing immediately because of his forsaking the idolatry of praying to dead humans. Speaking of which, I forgot to mention my dear mother in this story, bless her soul. Anyway, all of this finished in good time too because Bear had struggled a lot when I first sat on him, but he had stopped moving about 5 minutes ago. I asked the family if they were sure that if they died they would go to Heaven and they all said they were sure, except the husband who said he needed just a little more assurance. So I took the knife that Bear used to record his tally marks, cut my palm and the hand of the husband and then we shook hands. I looked at him and said, “There, now you have the blood of Jack Hyles in you and that will cover any sin you’ve ever done.” He tearfully replied, “Thank you. Now I know for sure.”

Today this family are members of FBC, where they serve faithfully and give generously. Very generously, like everyone should! Bear never regained consciousness after the couch incident, but I pulled some strings with the coroner and had his body cremated right away. A few days after his death, I began private grief counseling sessions with his widow. Tommy, praise the Lord, has continued serving the King by becoming a leader in our deaf ministry.

Absolutely! I agree and we both know that Jesus will be placing crowns of many jewels on both of our heads for the souls we won when He comes to worship us. . . I, er, mean when we worship Him. But you and I will still get to keep our crowns! (along with Bro. Roloff and Dr. Rice.) Others will be casting their crowns at His feet, but we will be seated on His right hand and on His left so I’m sure a few of them will fall at our feet as well.

“Then Tommy stood up and went right before the husband, sat down on his back legs and used his paws to point to heaven and then folded them together like he was praying while his tail wrapped around and pointed to his heart!”

As I was visiting the local JoAnn’s for more fabric for my butt cushions, I noticed a lady staring at me. She didn’t think I noticed, but I could see her out of the corner of my eye. I’m used to being stared at and admired for my Godly attire. I was wearing a dress that I had made myself and particularly made it more modest than most women. I was also wearing tights lest someone see my ankles.

Anyway, I glanced at the woman and she smiled. Since I KNEW she was wondering what I was doing and secretly wanted to be me, I said in a sort of whisper, “I make butt cushions…. you know, for The Church”. She smiled again. I went on, “Do you attend church?”. She said, “Why yes, I’m Catholic.” I giggled (putting my hanky to my mouth when I did) and said, “No, honey, I mean a REAL church. You know, one of those where they want to convert people and teach the authorized, sanctified KJV.” She looked at me in amazement, obviously just stricken with conviction of her own church. To the point, that she just started to walk away. I grabbed her arm and said, “Please, take this… its a tract. You probably have never seen one of these before, but please read it. It’s by Jack Chick and he will teach you all about the REAL Jesus and not the one they teach you in your Whore of Babylon church.” She looked at it slowly and took it, she was convicted in her heart, I could tell. Later, in the store, I saw her talking to another lady rather expressively, she pointed at me. I knew… I just knew she had gotten saved because of the tract and was sharing her excitement with others. And, she even showed the tract to the other girl… so I know, I KNOW, she was saved as well.

Nice tale… I always winced at the part when the “soul winner” says “Can I take five minutes and show you how to go to heaven?” (I’m thinking — “please tell the victim the truth; that it will be 20-30 minutes.”)

One Saturday morning at about 7am, after I had already read by Bible and prayed for an hour, I went out soulwinning on the streets of our God-rejecting town, this modern day Sodom. My wife went along so that she could be a good example of a help-meet and also be a good example of a proper, biblical woman well clothed in modesty, submission, and quietness. I knew that seeing her exhibit these characteristics would help win other’s souls to Christ.

I had just begun preaching with my megaphone to some teens that were “hanging out” across the street. I could tell that they weren’t saved because of the way they dressed and the fact that they all had earphones inside of their ears, listening to devil’s music!!

As I was preaching the good news as loudly as I could, this old woman came out of a building and becan criticizing me for waking up all the other people, and she began telling me that these kids were from the Presbyterian church, and that they were ministering to homeless people in the area. Well, now that I new those kids weren’t saved, I began preach much louder and more forcefully in order to silence the demonic spirit present in this unlearned woman who dared to teach men!

The old woman walked across the street and continued yelling at me even using horrible language such as calling me a pompous ass (she was obviously unsaved). I prayed to the Lord, and he spoke to me (not in an audible voice, mind you) and told me what I needed to do. I recalled Brother Schaap’s message that he had given to us, and I knew it was the Lord’s will, so I slapped grandma! Boy did that silence her. I knew that it would work, since it was the most effective way of ending ungodly disagreements at home as well. Well, you know what? Every one of those teenagers got saved after seeing the Lord work in that way. Amen? Also, many people in the nearby apartment building got saved as well. I would go right up to them, and say “do you want to get saved now?” They all responded yes, and began to ask me some confusing questions about how much they had to pay for my protection services. I just figured that the Lord would disciple them from the copy of the KJV Bible that I gave to them.

This was so succesful, that I might teach others to use this same tactic. There is a Catholic convent down the street from the Golden Corral that I eat at every Sunday after church. I am going to use this technique on one of those old nuns and see how many of those works driven Catholics get saved.

Here’s how I do it:
My church, the First Separated Sanctified Tabernacle of the Witness Stick, happens to be located on a busy road. We’ve counted over 50,000 cars, trucks and buses passing the church building every week. (The church ladies take the counting in shifts in between baking pies and knitting modest snoods for children of heathens that our missionary– we support him to the tune of $5 per month– has saved in Ougadougou, Burkina Faso. The little pickaninnies look just adorable in the pictures we get at Christmastime.) So, anyway, I received a burden from the Lord that He was opening a Door for a Ministry to the lost souls wandering in all that traffic. His eye is on the sparrow, and He sees you when you’re sleeping, and He also sees the guy driving the bread delivery truck, amen?

So, I had Brother Enos paint a couple of signs for the church lawn. Brother Enos was a sign-painter before he got saved, but the Lord showed him it was an evil occupation, because he had to make signs advertising carbonated beverages and restaurants that served alcohol, so now he keeps the grounds at the church, and supports his family with multilevel marketing of megavitamins. He did the signs in red and blue, and they came out looking real nice, even though there wasn’t too much room for messages after he had put the church name and “The Reverend Doctor Big Gary, Pastor” in suitably large letters at on each signboard. One sign says, “Repent, Sinners,” and the other says “Jesus Saves.” We had wanted to put “Only Jesus Saves,” but Enos ran out of room.

So fifty thousand people recieve the Gospel Truth from our church lawn per week, and are led to Trust Jesus. The total might be higher, because some of those vehicles have more than one person in them, but I know that some of them don’t read the signs, because they are busy yakking on their infernal cellular telephones, amen? and some of them don’t read English, because they are some of the foreign savages who are flooding this country now that the liberals have opened our borders, so I’m keeping the count conservative, as I try to keep everything, amen?

And I personally guarantee that each and every one of those souls I’ve won is every bit as saved as any of the souls in Jack Hyles’ soul-winning tales.

This is a really true story, and it doesn’t exactly fit but I still want to tell it. (Hey, I am practicing for old age, indulge me)

My bus partner and I were on the streets in Chicago in the middle of winter freezing our TOOCHES off. We were SOOO COOOLD. She said, “It would sure be nice if someone were to invite us in for a cup of coffee or something.” (We weren’t allowed to go in to the houses, but we would have this day just to get out of the cold.) I told her, “I don’t like coffee, but I sure wouldn’t mind some hot chocolate.” We decided to pray for God to provide us hot chocolate. At the end of the prayer I said, “Oh, a donut would be nice too…” We kept walking and as we came around the corner, our bus captain was there with his car. He said he was worried about us and he had a thermos full of hot chocolate and a couple donuts and we could sit in his car while we had them and he would walk around outside (so as not to break the rules.) It was the most definate miraculous answer to prayer I have ever experienced in my life. Ok, no souls were won that day, but it was a pretty memorable event.

When I was teacher to young, impressionalbe minds, I KNOW I converted many, many of those souls through my excessive modesty of clothing (big white collars, skirts to the ankle and tights, and never a sleeveless shirt), my recent graduation from Bob Jones, and my stern adherence to the letter of the law. I know they were saved because I constantly and with no compassion insisted the rules be followed with no question. Just don’t wear the tight shirts, the short (by an inch) skirt; just don’t write lyrics to rock songs on your notebooks; just don’t irriate me with your ridiculous questions for an extra worksheet or to go to the bathroom . . . just clean up the outside to conform to what I think Christian school studens should look like. And voila – saved! (right?) I’m sure it had a long-reaching impact, down to the younger grades who I’m sure looked up to me and wanted to be like me, as well as on those heathen parents who were lucky to have me teaching their kids.

well, lemme tell ya ’bout the meanest ol’ boy i ever brought to Jesus.
never got to know his real name, everyone just called him ‘old stabby joe’ (cause he was old and stabbed people a lot).
one day i was walking through the park handing out chick tracts to the homosexuals lurking on the benches when i ran into joe, i gave him a tract and he stabbed me. as i was laying there bleeding, i tole him ‘jesus forgives you and so do i’. then he ran off.
the next time i saw him was at his trial for stabbing me, i approached the defendant’s table and handed him another chick tract. he tried to hit me with a chair. in the struggle, one of the bailiffs was bludgeoned to death.
i was at joe’s execution, and i am fairly certain that his last words were about God (i was on the otherside of the heavy glass wall of the gas chamber, but i could sorta read his lips before they put the bag over his head).
Praise Jesus!

Walked out of the Home Depot one afternoon and found a Hispanic-looking man holding a sign, volunteering for work. My heart burned within me, knowing he belonged in his own country or in our county’s jail for illegal emigration.

When I remembered that the prison ministry wouldn’t have a copy of the King James Bible in Hispanic, the Holy Spirit pressed me to witness. Didn’t know what I’d say, but God would open his ears to my tongue.

“Brother, would you be saved today?”

“¿Como?”

“Do you know you’re a sinner?”

“¿Que?” Must have said OK, I thought. Praise God, he’s getting it!

“Do you believe in Jesus, that he died for your sins?”

He didn’t answer, so I asked again. But Satan must have stopped his ears, so I took his sign and wrote JESUS on it. Asked him again, “Do you know JESUS?” His eyes lit up with the truth of the Gospel.

“Ah sí, señor. Me llamo Jesus.” Ah, I see, he said! The Word didn’t return void! Then he sneezed or something with a quiet “hay-ZOOS.”

“Bless you, brother! And bless you for trusting! Praise God!”

I walked back to my car, proud to know I’d claimed another soul for Heaven right when he needed it.

The police showed up soon after I’d called them. And to think, he’d never have heard the true Gospel had I not shared with him the Blessed Name of Jesus.

Our church (and me too!) has had its name in the Sword of the Lord EVERY YEAR for the past 5 years as having at least 1 baptism every Sunday.

Well, last week the devil was working overtime in the service. A lady brought her baby into the service and it started crying. I yelled at her to take her baby to the nursery and then yelled at the deacons to never let that happen again!

Then there were some teenagers fidgeting and whispering so I had to call them down too. I just knew that with all that going on, people might be too distracted to come forward during the invitation.

After singing 6 stanzas of “Have Thine Own Way, Lord” and no one coming forward, I asked my assistant to check Jr. Church and see if anyone needed to be baptized after receiving assurance of salvation. He came back and said, “No”. I yelled at him (during the invitation, mind you) and told him he wouldn’t have a job tomorrow if he didn’t produce at least one person for baptism!!!

He came back with a kid who had been baptized at least 5 times before. I think the kid just liked getting dunked, but hey, we’ll take what we can get. At least our name will still be in the Sword of the Lord.

Our MOG has by my reckoning saved sixty skeenteen dozeny souls. Heck that must be well over severals of thousandy. So how come I can tell you over the last twenty years, who will come in, in what order, and which pew they will sit in? First the MOG’s Aunt Marthie and her fambly marches up to the third row front left. Then His cousin Bert (don’t call him Egbert, he don’t like it) brings in his tribe and they sit on the right four rows from the back. Then his brothers family, then his four maideny sisters, and then…all totalled almost forty people out of the millionys he’s witnessed too, and strange coincidence, they are all related to him (and I do mean strange)! 😕

Oh, I guess the number changes after each funeral. There used to be more than eighty in the pews on a Sunday. Now it’s just under forty. Also the number shrinks when the young go off to their heatheny colleges and never come back!

I spoke at the SOTL conference back in 1979. The auditorium was packed with about 1500 people, half of them preachers. When I gave the invitation, over 2000 preachers came forward to be saved, and all the preachers wives said AMEN!

I’d been witnissing to my neigbor for a long time and he didn’t want to here it at all. I knew it was my fault for not telling it right like the preachre does to make it too interesting to resist so I had to think a wile and got an idea. I went to the garage and then over to his house. When he came to the door I didn’t say noghting just doused him with gasoline and said do you believe in jesus. Well at first I thought he did because he said his name a couple times then I realized he was yelling at me. So I lit the match. I knew he didn’t have much time and so I had to say calm and tell him all the scriptures before it was to late. He stopped making noise after a while and I thought real quick and said, If today is the day your trusting Jesus alone for salvation just fall down. And you know what he did. Right to the ground and just in time I guess. And then the cops showed up and put the cuffs on me and I just stood there rejoiceing to be a pertaker of His suffrings just like he said If the world hated Him they must hate a follwer like me.

I have had the privilege in the last 22 years of preaching 20,000 times! That’s right. I was called to preach, so I preached when called (even when I wasn’t). I’ve preached in churches, and I’ve preached in bars; I’ve preached in caves, and I’ve preached in cars. I’ve preached to hundreds, and I’ve preached to one; I’ve preached so much, ’cause it’s so much fun! I’ve preached when sleeping, I’ve preached wide awake; I’ve screamed and hollered ’bout that fiery lake. I also write beautiful poetry; I once wrote a poem so beautiful that, when I read it to Big Mean Mother Killin’ Father Rapin’ Hank down on the wharf, he screamed so loud that three cruise ships full of boozin’ fornicatin’ heathern tipped over with the loss of every last person on board. Hank became a babtist minister ON THE SPOT and started praising gid for each corpse that washed up on the beach.

I founded the Bumsquat Basement Bible College (but Not Seminary, Amen!), or BBBC(BNSA), as it says on our letterhead, with nothing more than an old TRS-80 computer, a desk with three legs and a cast-off ditto machine. Within thirty days we’d sold more than 350 Doctorate of Preacher degrees to 200 hard-working, diligent gid-fearing fellas with $50 to spare apiece!

That’s all I got for now, as we’re heading out to the Jason Beeber convert tonight to preach to the folks in line. I take the youthgroup to all of these disney concerts to get wayward youths to convert, turn from their sinful idolattery and drop their tickets on the ground. We’re gonna see if we can beat last year’s record of 35 minutes to get enough tickets for the entire group to get in free!

T’was a dark and stormy night in Victorian Wessex. I could scarcely hear my children pleading over the howling gale ‘Don’t go out in the snow, Papa’.
‘Get thee behind me, thou tempting imps. The holy writ must be preached whether the weather be fair nor foul’. Without a backward glance I slammed the door of our humble hovel behind me.
The snow had let up a tad and I could see all of two strides ahead. With my trusty stick in my hand, I strode through the snow uphill to the Chapel of the Chosen Few.
There was not another soul stirrng in the hamlet. ‘Poor timorous creatures’ I mused ‘if only they could know the deep joy that warms our hearts to the core even when the drifts are higher than a donkeys’ fetlock.’
I reached the chapel in good heart, unbarred the door and lit the candle from my horn lantern.
I was the only one who could rouse themselves to honour the Lord in gathering together. ‘Ohhh! Am I the only one left, like the mighty prophet Elijah?’
Never deterred I sang a hymn to the accompaniment of myself on the autoharp and preached a sermon on the backsliding kings of Bashan.
‘Moab is my tosspot’ I proclaimed when the door opened and a stranger half fell across the threshold. ‘Shelter, brandy’ he stammered through his blue lips.
‘Nay lad. I have better than brandy for thee’ as I continued my sermon.
Well that lad got saved from his downward path there and then. ‘What be thy name, lad’ I enquired, quill poised at the ready.
‘Spurgeon’ he replied, ‘Charles Haddon Spurgeon’..

This one reminds me of my legalistic x who seems to want to win the “perfect attendance crown” and during a horrific New England storm insisted on going to church much to my pleading that it was stupid to go out in that weather and when he got there he was surprised to find that church had been cancelled. I guess they didn’t feel the need to call people because it was so OBVIOUSLY stupid to go out in that weather… sigh… 🙄

Couldn’t believe the bus broke down on Sunday morning. We’d gone thirty years and never missed a day of bus ministry. I knew the Lord would provide somehow. As I prayed, God showed me the solution in Ezekiel 22:30: “I searched for a man among them who would stand in the gap.” Right then I knew that I had to stand in this gap.

I borrowed the keys to Brother Jessup’s ’87 LTD Crown Vic, since the window was down and the keys were right in the driver’s seat. Started driving around town only to realize that I had no idea where the bus route was! I ended up driving to a few playgrounds, hoping to find some children playing.

At first the Lord didn’t see fit to bring in the children. Since I was on the Lord’s mission, I didn’t want to come out of the car, and I wasn’t here to preach from the car. But God saw fit to show me a convenience store, where I bought six bags of candy.

Drove back to the playground, shouting “WHO WANTS CANDY?” God would use their sweet tooth to bring them to the Gospel. Sure enough, it worked! About a dozen kids came running to the car, and as I handed out candy, I welcomed the kids to hop into the Crown Vic. The Devil wouldn’t have it, as one of the kids screamed “Stranger danger!” They soon ran away, fleeing to the pleasures of this world and to Hell fire.

I thought I lost them all, but I managed to reach out and grab one of the smaller kids, a steadfast remnant that the Lord provided. I helped him through my driver’s window and had him sit in the back. What a blessing he enjoyed, as he sat in the back with the rest of candy to himself, listening to Gospel cassettes with me. Praise God for His remnant.

As he wept tears of joy back there, I reminded him: “Son, there’s no ‘stranger danger’ with the Savior!”

Eh-hem, where to begin? I have been so blessed with souls I have saved I find it hard to relate just one. Maybe about the biker who I won to the Lord by pointing out how the Devil had already marked him with all those tattoos and he needed to get his sinful heart right with god. I told him, “you better get right or you’ll get left!”

Or how about the time I won that dope dealer to the Lord by snatching that bag of Dope out of his hand and shaking all that poison out in the street. I talked about his poor ol’ mother who probably prayed for him every morning , noon and night. What would she think of him? He accepted the lord as his personal saviour and through the tears of a broken heart and promised he would clean up his act and go see his mom up at the state penitentiary.

He kept mumbling about how someone was gonna kill him for losing all that dope but I told him the lord was bigger than any dope dealer cartel! I still remember how the lord moved when I was preaching his funeral that following week. Seems he musta got backslidden because they say the brakes went out on his car as he was coming down the mountain from the state prison where his momma was. Seems that he was thrown from the vehicle and must have hit a tree because his face was so badly smashed and he must have cut his throat when he was ejected from the car as well. (I still don’t understand about the duct tape on his mouth?) But they said when they arrived at the wreck his car cd player was on repeat and was playing AC/DC’s “Highway to Hell” at full blast. If I hadn’t been there to get him saved that day he would have been facing a christ-less eternity.

Let’s see, then there was that poor family at the hospital. The mom was dying from injuries she had received that afternoon from her husband who had come home with a six-pack of that demon alcohol. After two or three cans he began getting abusive and kicked the dog. then while drinking another one he began cussing the family out, the poor kids were trembling under the kitchen table not knowing if they were going to be kicked next. Then they told of their momma lying there on the kitchen floor with blood coming out of her nose and an eye all swollen shut from the beating he had just given her, and him standing in the kitchen hollering about it being “Happy Hour” and it was “Miller Time.” I was able to talk to that young mother as she lay there dying and she agreed to accept the lord just before they took her to surgery. The husband had sobered up some and realized what he had done and the mistakes he had made. He swore he was going to pour out all that demon alcohol when he got home and he would do better if God would let his wife be ok. I was able to lead him down the Romans Road and he repented and got saved right there in that hospital room. God healed her injuries and they are now faithful Bus ministry leaders, on fire for the Lord. I just can’t say enough good about their faithfulness these two years he has been on probation.

I could go on and on with these stories but I don’t want it to appear that I am bragging. Let my stories be true and everyone who stands against me be a liar! If god is for me who can stand against me? Amen? All hearts cleared? Amen, then you’re dismissed.

Man who was baptized in a Southern Baptist church when he was 10 –
Dunk ’em!

Preaching to the youth group (again!) about how they have to know the EXACT DATE they accepted Jesus into their hearts, and if they don’t –
Dunk ’em!

Preaching at Teen Camp that they need to be ABSOLUTELY SURE they really, really meant it sincerely when they supposedly accepted Christ earlier, and if they are not 100% certain of their perfect sincerity than –
Dunk ’em!!!

College student gets busted for posting on banned websites. Question whether or not he is even a Christian, then –
Dunk ’em!

Man confesses to adultery and claims it happened because he was not really saved at the time, so –
Dunk ’em!

Christian school teacher gets arrested for crimes our church chooses not to discuss. Well, obviously he was never saved and was living a fake life, certainly we will –
Dunk ’em!!!